


a day in the life of

by nigiyakapepper



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adults, Everyone Is Alive, Multi, POV Second Person, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:31:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6504538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigiyakapepper/pseuds/nigiyakapepper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk knows too many people, Chara has potential in the modeling industry, and Asriel is thirsty after Finals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a day in the life of

**Author's Note:**

> Age range 20-23. This was supposed to be more but I can't write tasteful, raunchy sex to save my life, so have at this amalgamation of headcanons and me trying to figure out the dynamics of these three?
> 
> Let it be known they have a happy, healthy sex life. Kindly do not proceed if this isn't your cup of tea.

Frisk knows too many people, you decide as you stare at yourself in the floor-length mirror of the studio’s dressing room. Too many people they can’t say no to.

With a sigh, you adjust your shirt in an attempt to look stylish (at least by this century’s standards); you know that as soon as you walk out the tiny room, you’re going to be primped and prodded at until they’re satisfied.

 _”Can you do me a favor, Chara?” Frisk had asked sweetly around the week before,_ on _you to be specific, belly to belly, their chin resting atop their folded hands. Your breath and heartbeat had just calmed down, and sweat was cooling off you in pleasant waves, the afterglow of this little flirt monster’s_ attentions _still tingling in your nether regions. You groan and lay your arm over your eyes._

_“What have I sold my soul to?”_

_“Nothing_ that _dramatic, silly,” Frisk giggles and squirms. You’re still a bit sensitive but the sensations aren’t unwelcome. Then again, you’d rather much hear what they’ve bribed you about. “It’s for a friend of mine who works at OMOCAT. The model bailed at the last second and the promotional stuff for their new clothing line needs to be briefed in two days so…”_

_Ah, of course. You know where this is going. After all, it isn’t the first time you’ve done modeling stints as favors (never voluntary, god no). You only wonder why people (aside from Frisk, even more surprisingly) insist on you. You’ve never thought you looked good. People in the future are weird._

_“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”_

_Frisk makes a happy squee and scoots up your chest to kiss your face. You smile bemusedly at their reaction at first, before they make a high pitched noise at the back of their throat and all the heat in your body rushes outward, sending tingles to your extremities. You card your fingers through their hair and coax their mouth open with yours and—_

“Chara? Are you ready?”

You’re brought out of your daydreaming with a jolt. You scrub a hand down your face. Hopefully it isn’t too red.

It’s weird. When you were alive (like, _alive_ alive), you only knew OMOCAT via that comic and the occasional Tumblr fashion post that made its way to your dashboard. You’d been mildly surprised they had gotten famous enough to be searching for models. Fast forward a hundred years later and they’re an internationally recognized luxury brand with est. 2010 emblazoned in fancy gold lettering on their paper bags. And you’re modeling for them.

As a favor of course.

“Look to the right, please! Like you’ve seen something interesting in the distance but you can’t get close to it!” the director (director? you don’t know these things) shouts and the photographers snap away.

At first, being in front of the camera and subjected to all these unknown stares of strangers expecting you to at least remotely know what to do was ridiculously uncomfortable. It was a good(?) thing this all started out as (predictably) favors for school work, as Frisk would show you old photoshoots from high school and you in various clothes. You looked so stiff and frowny. You still think you do, but they insist you’ve gotten better. More natural. A large part of you doesn’t believe that and just wants to get this over with.

“Please look intensely at the camera! Like you’re out to get someone!” the director says.

“But not too much!” Frisk adds anxiously from beside their friend and you smirk. You never really knew what intense was (you still don’t), so you just say things in your head like 'Fuck you' and hope it somehow translates onto your face. There were one too many times you had to re-shoot photos because you genuinely looked intimidating. (Asriel had laughed when he heard about it—“You did your creepy face?! Oh geez.”—and you yelled that it wasn’t intentional. It only made him laugh harder. You know he’s got copies of those particular photos so…)

Three hoodies, several multicolored pants, two dresses, a particularly dashing suit, floral shorts, a few stylishly oversized tops, and a pair of boots later, Frisk hands you a water bottle and you take a grateful sip.

“Good work!” they say, beaming.

“Thanks,” you sigh. “I hope this is enough?” You look up to see they’re grinning, before texting on their phone. “What is it now.” (You totally know the answer though.)

“Nothing much!” they say barely unable to contain their laughter, but they show you their phone anyway. On the screen are sneakily taken photos of you almost completely engrossed in posing for the camera. You redden slightly (which is a lot). They've been sent to Asriel.

“Oh,” you say. “Oh god,” you laugh a bit. “Don’t be mean. He’s been stuck with exams this whole time, hasn’t he?”

“Eeyup,” Frisk says, typing in some more messages. “He’s on break right now, see.”

A slew of anguished texts greet you, intensifying after your pictures. It’s equal parts flattering and embarrassing.

“I’ll see him after class, I think,” you say thoughtfully as you pack your belongings—“Thanks again, Chara! You’re a lifesaver!—“ and prepare to leave the studio. “You coming home late tonight?”

“Yeah,” Frisk says, mood visibly dipping as they run a hand through their hair.

You pause and look at them. “Is it peace negotiations? D’you want me to come with?”

They shake their head. “Dad’s with me, so I’ll be fine. I guess I’m just nervous? They’re monsters and humans from East and Central, and I don’t speak their language. But Dad’s surprised because he says some of them are from the old tribes and even their bosses are still alive. He’s actually been really excited—”

Frisk Dreemurr, a Political Science major with a minor in Public Administration, due to graduate at the young age of 20 because they want to be able to truly fulfill their role as ambassador to humans and monsters, getting flustered over something they’ve been immersed in since they were nine is endearing to you. You can feel a soft smile grow on your face as you watch them stumble through the evening’s agenda. You feel a little bad for not listening, but they’re beautiful (in the dim light of the studio, anywhere, all the time). You come in to give them a warm, bracing hug.

Frisk stops rambling with a small, curious sound and calms down (like a bunny, you think). They sigh tremulously against you.

“You’re going to be fine,” you say gently, and kiss their forehead. “You worry a lot but when you’re actually there, you know what to do. Or at least, you see a way around it, yeah?”

They look at you with their eyes shining (overwhelmed? you think, you don’t know what’s so great about what you said) but you aren’t complaining when they launch themselves up at you for a quick kiss.

“Good luck and stay safe,” you say when you pull apart. Frisk gives your middle one more squeeze for the road and love bubbles up in your chest.

“Thanks, Chara. You too.”

 

 

 

 

 

The studio isn’t too far from the university. Well, by this century’s standards, it should take a quick hover car ride, but you’d rather walk. People say you’re like an old person in that regard and you don’t deny it. At twenty-three, your soul is over a hundred years old.

Besides, you have to get a few books from your apartment (conveniently located within campus) for your next class. 

You remember the first time you had descended Mt. Ebott after freeing everyone from the Underground back when you and Frisk shared one body. Sure, you’d been stared at (that’s an understatement, there was an uproar about it for months) but no more than you stared at them. At everything.

The sea level had risen. There was less land, and less people for various reasons you didn’t bother understanding. It was surreal when you’d been told that you were still on American soil (which is part of the Western District), and almost everyone you met had a weird, bionic part—an eye, a leg, an arm, LED hair, and other technologies you couldn't even dream of. You felt that every 1950s imagining of what the future would be like had been realized, minus aliens, but monsters filled that in. Within a year, things had settled down. It wasn’t as if monsters weren’t up to date with technology or had difficulty adapting, despite isolation and the 100-year setback. What was more surprising to you was how little things have changed. Many things have improved, undoubtedly, but taking the (faster, more economic) bullet train from Wyoming to New York and seeing the huge moving display of the Tron-esque Times Square blasting “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” in celebration of the upcoming ‘200 Centuries of Music’ concert, you couldn’t help but feel more welcome than you thought you would be.

Ten years later, you can say you’re used to things yourself.

You and Asriel have History together. You don’t need to take it, but he does if he wants to work in Foreign Affairs someday. It’s funny how the two most precious people in your life are training for careers and ambitions that might potentially keep you apart for long periods of time (who knows? maybe not) but you find you aren’t bothered. Neither Toriel nor Asgore had objections to your choice of career (or lack thereof), even if your adviser did.

_”What do you want to do in the future, Chara?”_

_“Be a housewife,” you had deadpanned. Like seriously, if people knew what you’d been through, they’d agree that you have every right to just…not._

_“Be serious,” deadpans your adviser right back. (You like him though, he’s a very cool professor.)_

_“Househusband.”_

_He sighs. “I know the circumstances of your family, Chara. Frisk has their future set for them, so does Asriel. I’ll apologize if this sounds rude, but don’t you want to help them eventually earn income? I can’t imagine you being comfortable with depending on them.”_

_You had smirked wryly at the thought. Sure, had you been any younger, you would have gotten offended, but having extensively ruminated over the question yourself, you know your answer. “In one way, sir, I might. But I’ve talked about it with them, and they’re okay with me getting a job I’m most comfortable with, even if they’re odd and aren’t lasting or professional or permanent.”_

_“You’d be content with that for the rest of your life?”_

_Your smile turns genuine then. “I’m just happy to be alive, honestly.”_

_Your adviser smiles as well and gives you a smart clap on the shoulder. His hand’s been covered with a material so close to flesh; if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it’s an organic arm. “Alright, you little weirdo. Go write your novel in the mountains.”_

But yeah, someone’s gotta take care of Mom and Dad, and you’d be happy to take up the task. Your parents seem far from retiring though, as rejoining the surface seems to have energized them, but you’re pretty sure having their time pick up again now that Asriel’s growing is going to take its toll. Far off still, but you’ll be their support when that happens.

“Hey Az,” you say, setting down your things on your desk beside Asriel’s. It’s study period, with finals on-going. There’s tension (and maybe panic) among your classmates, but relief as well with the exams that have finished. Monster Kid is snoring face down at his own desk, as are more than a few other people. Some are studying, like your shared boyfriend, who simply greets you with a sigh.

Your heart goes out to him. You take a chair, turn it backwards, and sit on it, facing him. He’s still reading his notes. “Howdy, Chara.”

“You want a blowjob later?” you offer.

A tiny pause. “Yeah,” he says, resigned. “Just that though.” He finally looks at you and the expression on his face is so torn between temptation and desperate self-control that you have to laugh. “I have Management finals tomorrow.”

“I promise,” you say. “How’d your Philosophy test go, by the way?”

Asriel’s face scrunches up in thought. “Good? I guess…most of the test was application. Hand almost cramped up from writing like five essays.”

You wince. “Tough.”

He groans in agreement and flops down, chin first, on his papers. “This isn’t faaaaaaiir,” he whines. “You and Frisk finished finals a week ago and I want to spend as much time with you before you’re off to the mountains again.”

“It’s only for a summer,” you reason, and pet his furry head.

It wasn’t as if you weren’t a completely unproductive member of society. The world’s decline in population and the increased efforts in returning nature to its greener state led you to find out about taking summer jobs as a forest ranger in any one of America’s surviving National Forests. Shoshone had been your first choice, out of sentimentality more than anything. You dearly love your family, and sincerely enjoy the day to day, but this time of the year provides you with much needed solitude to filter out the oft overwhelming press of humanity you’re exposed to at any other time.

(This had only been allowed, of course, after several reassurances that you weren’t going to off yourself out there. You’re genuinely proud and glad to say you have no reason to do that now.)

Besides, the entire mountain range is what Mt. Ebott is part of. Even if you’re contracted not to come down during your stay, the nearby town is where most monsters still choose to stay, so it’s reassuring. The solitude and crisp mountain air does wonders for your nerves. Watching out for forest fires (and keeping them from burning too much) is just enough responsibility for you to enjoy fulfilling, and returning to every summer.

“Still,” Asriel says, looking dolefully at you. “We miss you. Everyday. There isn’t a day I don’t want to be without you anymore.”

Your breath hitches. A heartbeat pounds harder than the rest. “Liar,” you say fondly. You’re absolutely sure you’re red, there’s no use hiding it. “Go back to studying.”

Asriel whimpers, but straightens up and goes back to reading when you interlace your fingers with his. The next thing you know is you being woken up to a soft snootle nuzzle, and a collective ‘whooooh!’-ing from the class, followed by Asriel’s embarrassed, “Shut up!”

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Saturday morning. You’d be due to take the Greyhound bus to Cody around Monday afternoon if all remaining vehicles weren’t lodged in the Museum of Human History, you sigh and look at your train ticket on the coffee table.

You’ve gotten up early (relatively). Frisk, who insisted on getting up with you is asleep, head on your pajama-clad lap. Asriel had risen hours ago to join Papyrus on his daily jog across university grounds. You’ve tried to watch the morning news, except you can’t stand noise right now so the TV’s on mute.

Half an hour passes by before you hear the click of the apartment door opening, followed by the thump of paw pads striking polished wood, and the scent of fur and sun.

“Hey Azzy,” you call, tipping your head back in an attempt to look at him upside down.

“Hi Chara,” he says and kisses you. “Good morning, Frisk,” he greets the mop of brown hair on your lap and kisses them too. They shift sleepily and give him a bleary smile.

“Hello…”

“Got any plans today?” he asks and both of you shake your head.

“Whole day’s free,” you say and the toothy grin he gives you is a warm drink straight to your belly.

“D’you guys want to go anywhere?”

You nudge Frisk who shakes their head again, rolling over to burrow into your stomach.

“Got it, absolutely nowhere” Asriel says, smiling strangely triumphant. “I’ll just go take a shower.”

You nod.

Twenty minutes later, Frisk is up, resting their head on your side. Both of you are watching a movie on low volume, but not really paying attention to it. It’s quiet, until something warm gently rests on your shoulder. Terribly warm, a little wet, and smells familiar. You look.

“Howdy,” Asriel’s dick greets, and before you can stop yourself, you bark out laughter, inhaling air with a snort, and laughing some more.

“Oh my god,” you hear Frisk say, the smile in their voice audible. There are tears in your eyes and you’re wheezing.

“Post-finals celebration,” Asriel declares, expectant and unfazed.

“’f course it is,” you manage to say, looking up from wiping your eyes to see Frisk giggling while getting up to kiss him. Stepping on a throw pillow sets their balance off a little but Asriel catches them, hands on their waist, and whatever was playful turns steamy, you think, as you see his tongue slip in between Frisk’s parted lips with a high sigh and their hands bury further into his white fur.

“Now this is what I want to take photos of,” you mumble, grinning. Asriel pulls away and gives you a look. Frisk (still sleepy, you're suspicious) hums happily, hugging his neck.

“You’ll kill Mom with a heart attack,” he says.

You laugh at that. “I resent that comment, but I’ll let it slide,” you answer, rising from the couch as well. “Is this what you’ve planned all day, granted we weren’t doing anything else?”

He _winks_ , the cheeky ass, and sends a finger gun your way. “Can’t keep secrets from you!”

You look at him half amused, half incredulous. “There wasn’t even a secret to keep!” you quip, but follow them to the bedroom anyway, and don’t comment on Frisk being the one who's practically dragging Asriel along.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> If you really want the smut, I'm down to try.


End file.
